Happy Hunting

I leave for Kennett around 4pm. I listen to This American Life followed by the Sleigh Bells album I've been loving. My life is good right now. I have a bounce in my step, and I don't feel the nagging notion that I'm alone or stagnant or killing myself slowly. 

I find myself wanting to plan another bicycle trip. I'd like to get out again for awhile. My mind drifts to Nemaska and how I never got all the way there.

I have the perfect bicycle. It's a blessing and a curse. It's great to reach the pinnacle, but it doesn't leave me with any satisfying voids to fill. Having an imperfect bicycle allows for constant tweaking, perpetual upgrades and an unending outward flow of cash. I miss that. Some people make it their life's work to chase the perfect setup, but I just rolled over and woke up next to it. 

I might not need anything. I logically can't make myself believe that there is a single bicycle component that will make me happier or make my bicycle run better. None of this makes me stop looking. I look at bicycle parts and daydream for hours. I don't need any of it, but I need to look at all of it. Technically, I'd like a new rear wheel. The one I'm using is a cheap loaner from the shop. The search begins. I check eBay for whole wheels, hubs, rims - all imaginable varieties and combinations. Then I start looking at everything from stems to bottom brackets. Don't need any of it. Then I re-check to make sure the price of a full custom titanium frame hasn't dropped below the fifty bucks or so I could afford right now. Nope: still in the thousands. I'll resume the hunt another time. In a way, it actually never ends.